


Hard Reset

by Snazzy_Suit



Series: Resting Potential [2]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: AU, Blues and Reds (mentioned only), Brainwashing, Canon compliant up until Quick Save, Carolina is pissed, Conditioning, Dylan is just trying to help, Everyone is so confused, Gen, Hypnosis, Season 15, Sleeper Agents, That's cool right?, Vic drops a bomb on everybody, Wash doesn't get shot, all that bs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2019-02-12 11:48:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12958560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snazzy_Suit/pseuds/Snazzy_Suit
Summary: [“Hey, chill amigo, I got you covered. All you need to do is say the magic words I give you. Then you can just sit back and watch the show.”]Andrews bit her lip. It sounded too easy. Impossible, even.[“Tic-toc, dude!  Like you said, not a lot of time! But if it helps any, I’ll call this wish a freebie. I mean, if you die, you can’t hold up your e-end of the bargain, am I right?]” Vic briefly fizzled out. [“Plus, I’ve always kinda wanted to see this ol’ parlor trick. Ne-never got the chance to use it back in Blood Gulch.”]Another hasty scan of her surroundings told the reporter that their group was no closer to a plan of action than they were before. Finally, she relented.“What do I need to do?”





	1. Deus Ex Vic

**Author's Note:**

> The prologue for the series isn't necessarily _essential_ to understand this installment, but it would certainly make things less jarring.

**Blues and Reds Underground Base – The Hangar**

**Several Years Later**

 

* * *

 

They had been discussing a plan of action in the hall leading into the hanger. They had thought all the enemy sim troopers were accounted for; standing guard at the lone pelican. They had been wrong.

A small patrol happened upon them from behind. Finding themselves suddenly trapped, the Reds and Blues reluctantly allowed themselves to be led out into the open hangar. With the former Freelancers in their current condition, the group was hesitant to immediately retaliate. Now they were huddled in a tight circle—the reporters and weakened Freelancers crouched in the center—guns trained on them from all sides.

Dylan Andrews watched as a couple of the enemy soldiers left formation, arguing quietly with one another and gesturing wildly to her companions; deciding what to do with them, no doubt. Dylan was just thankful that they hadn’t been executed on the spot.

Grif softly blew out a puff of air, shoulders drooping.

“We’re so fucked.”

The orange soldier had muttered it as though it were fact. Given the circumstances, he likely wasn’t wrong.

“I knew we should have just ran out and shot them.” Tucker hissed, visor turned toward the ex-mercenary. Locus, was it? “If we hadn’t just stood around talking, we wouldn’t have gotten caught.”

The man’s grip on his sniper rifle tightened minutely, but otherwise offered no response to the aqua soldier’s remark.

Andrews doubted Tucker’s “plan” would have gone over any better, but she wasn’t about to speak up. Arguing would do them no good.

Dylan startled at a nudge to her shoulder. Jax had sidled up to her, cautiously eyeing the troopers stationed up on the platforms above them.

“Okay, I know one Deus ex Machina is bad enough, but I _really_ wouldn’t mind another one about now.”

The reporter sighed. Though she was vaguely annoyed by her partner and his continued insistence of analyzing their predicaments like it was the rough draft of a screen play, she did agree with the sentiment. They could really use a miracle right about now.

_[“Yo, did someone say miracle?”]_

Andrews flinched at the grating voice on her private channel. Vic—she had nearly forgotten he was there.

_“No one **said** anything.”_ Dylan answered discreetly.

The unstable AI scoffed.

_[“Said, thought—whatever dude! Do you w-want me to sprinkle some pixie dust on this shit sandwich you’ve gotten yourself into or don’t you? ”]_

The reporter’s brows crinkled at the mental image brought on by the crude metaphor. She glanced at the soldiers still deliberating their fate. A quick survey of the troops in her company revealed no significant change. The Freelancers seemed to struggle just to stay upright. The reds and blues were quietly bickering amongst themselves. Jax was…Jax. And their would-be rescuer stood rigidly in place, subtly gauging the enemy troopers posed before him. Locus being the more… _level headed_ in the group, it was likely he was plotting a means of retaliation.

But Andrews wasn’t going to bet her life on an uncertainty. Not if there was a viable solution at her fingertips.

_“…what can you do?”_ she replied at last.

_[“Now we’re t-talking!”]_ Vic sputtered. _[“But it’s not so much what **I** can do, but what **you** and the **Reds** and **Dudes** can do.”]_

_“What do you mean?”_

_[“I **mean** I got access to some super, duper, top s-secret files. So hush-hush that only three other people have ever seen them: Agent Florida, The Councilor, a-and The Director of Project Freelancer himself.”]_

A myriad of questions flew through the reporter’s mind. Any other day, she would have yielded to her inquisitive nature, but time was of the essence.

_“What does that have to do with what’s happening right now?”_

_[“I’m getting there du-dudereno! These files contain a cheat code that should get you out of this mess no problemo.”]_

Dylan clenched her jaw in irritation. She felt her teeth grinding.

_“We don’t have time to read through pages of information. I need a solution **now**.”_

_[“Hey, chill amigo, I got you covered. All you need to do is say the magic words I give you. Then you can just sit back and watch the show.”]_

Andrews bit her lip. It sounded too easy. Impossible, even.

_[“Tic-toc, dude!  Like you said, not a lot of time! But if it helps any, I’ll call this wish a freebie. I mean, if you die, you can’t hold up your e-end of the bargain, am I right?]”_ Vic briefly fizzled out. [ _“Plus, I’ve always kinda wanted to see this ol’ parlor trick. Ne-never got the chance to use it back in Blood Gulch.”]_

Another hasty scan of her surroundings told the reporter that their group was no closer to a plan of action than they were before. Finally, she relented.

_“What do I need to do?”_

Mere moments after the AI relayed the information, the opposing simulation troopers arrived at a decision regarding their captives. Jax would have probably spouted some jargon about plot convenience if he had been aware of the situation. Though it was certainly cutting it close, Dylan preferred to think of the timing as fortuitous.

“Alright cock suckers, listen up!” A red soldier shrieked, voice impossibly grating, “We’ve decided that keeping you prisoner is too much work, so we’re just gonna line you up and blow your brains out!”

Grif and Simmons shared a look. Facing execution by firing squad? This seemed annoyingly familiar.

“Yeah!” A blue soldier chimed, equally annoying. “Now drop your weapons and get ready to embrace the void motherfuckers!”

Honestly, Andrews wondered why they hadn’t asked them to do that in the first place. Not that she was complaining.

Before her companions could so much as twitch, Dylan threw her hands into the air.

“Wait!”

All visors turned to the reporter. The attention had her suddenly feeling less certain about her next action.

“Don’t we get to say any last words? Our final goodbyes?”

Andrews felt the confused and curious gazes of her group. A brief murmur rippled through the enemy combatants.

“Fine!” A voice rang out, sounding not unlike a petulant child. “But make it quick!”

A modicum of tension lifted from the reporter’s shoulders. She lowered her arms to her sides with a sigh of relief.

“What are you doing?”

Dylan’s head snapped up at the ex-mercenary’s rumbling voice. She regarded him carefully, collecting her words.

“I have a plan,” she whispered, “There’s no time to explain, but I need you to keep low and stay by Wash and Carolina.”

Andrews distantly heard Jax mutter something about stock phrases. She held her breath as Locus considered her; silently praying to whatever god may be listening that the man wouldn’t argue.

“…very well,” he yielded with reluctance.

The reporter heard the undertone of the ex-mercenary’s compliance loud and clear.

_“You better know what you are doing.”_

God, she hoped she did.

“Dude, what the fuck is going on?”

Tucker looked between her and Locus, bewildered. The rest of the Reds and Blues watched expectantly.

“I can’t say,” Dylan offered lamely, “You’re just going to have to trust me.”

Jax went to comment, but at the sound of his intake of air, Andrews delivered a swift jab to his gut with her elbow. They didn’t have time to listen to him ramble about tropes.

“Stick with me and shut up,” she hissed at her wheezing partner, “Donut and Caboose, I need you to stay down and cover Wash and Carolina. The rest of you, make a line in front of us and wait for my signal.”

“You’re using us as meat shields?” Sarge barked, “That job is reserved exclusively for Grif!”

The indignant protest from the orange trooper went unheard.

“Just do it!” Andrews snarled quietly.

Their hesitation was mercifully brief, but present none the less. She didn’t blame them. This whole situation was completely fucked.

“Are you assholes done?!” A soldier shouted from one of the platforms above. “It’s almost time for our break!”

Everyone was in position. Nervous and tense as hell, but ready from what Dylan could discern.

“We’re ready to say our final words,” The reporter stated clearly, thankful her voice didn’t catch in a web of nerves.

“Get on with it!”

Andrews took a deep breath. She mouthed the phrase Vic provided, tasted the phantom words on her tongue. Bitter, if she had to describe it.

The AI had better be right about this.

“It is from ignorance you pay this toll.”

Loudly, deliberate in enunciation, the phrase rang out. Dylan shook in anticipation. And just like that, there was a shift; a palpable change in the air. The Reds and Blues—save Caboose and Donut— froze, like a switch had been flipped and they were experiencing a hard reset.

Then, in unison—

“To those of knowledge we grant our soul.”

The simulation troopers melted into various combative stances.

Simmons, the soldier positioned closest to her, spoke next. His voice was flat and devoid of any defining inflection.

“Awaiting first directive.”

The reporter gaped. The surrounding enemy troops looked between each other, baffled by the sudden change in demeanor. Andrews only imagined what must have gone through the minds of the others. If what Vic said was true, they had no idea what was coming.

Breaking from her stupor, Dylan squared her shoulders and chose her next words carefully.

“Neutralize the threat. Eliminate all hostiles wearing a green visor.”

Fuck, she hoped that wasn’t too vague.

It must have been enough, because one second the Reds and Blues of Blood Gulch were crouched around her, and the next they were off mowing down their captors. Sarge and Tucker took point, making short work of the opposing sim troopers with their short range weaponry and melee attacks. Grif and Simmons provided cover from the back—picking off those just out of reach of the leading charge.

Sarge viciously punched a blue soldier hard enough to crack their visor. Before the body even hit the ground, another nearby trooper was crippled by a devastating kick to the patella. A Red attempted to ambush from behind, but was knocked off balance by a strike from Tucker. Sarge turned in time to greet his would-be attacker—catching him by the throat.

“It’s the beast!” the trooper screeched, “The Great Destroyer has returned! The prophecy has been fulfilled! The end is—!”*

The soldier is silenced with a sickening crack.

Suddenly, the hangar was engulfed in chaos. Red and Blue soldiers ran frantically to and fro, screaming in panic. Between friendly fire incidents and a complete breakdown in command (if what the sim troopers had could even be called that), the odds had drastically turned against their favor.

Sarge cracked a Blue over the skull with the butt of his shotgun. Carrying the momentum of the blow, the gruff leader of Red Team spun on his heels and fired off a round into the back of a fleeing combatant. Tucker snagged the arm of a Blue lunging at the occupied Colonel and snapped their radius and ulna like they were nothing more than dry twigs. He twisted and pulled the screaming trooper over his shoulder, hurling the victim into the nearest opponent. Tucker vaulted over one of the crumpled bodies and impaled a charging Red on his sword. He kicked the limp body off without pause and sliced through a soldier approaching from behind.

It was almost seamless how the two moved; like a macabre, choreographed dance.

The remaining Red Team members were not to be outdone. Grif and Simmons alternated between standing and crouching as the situation demanded, providing cover for their teammates with their battle rifles. The precision of the maroon and orange soldiers was astounding, as was their synchronization. One would focus on the enemy troopers stationed on the platforms above while the other picked off the more distant hostiles below. Shoulder to shoulder, back to back, the two spun slowly in a deliberate fashion—keeping any blind spots to absolute minimum.

The distinct discharge of a sniper rifle garnered Dylan’s attention. Whatever shock Locus may have felt at the Reds’ and Blues’ actions had been placed on the back burner. His shots were non-lethal, but effective regardless. Additional fire and grenade blasts informed the reporter that Donut had begun offering cover as well. A glance revealed Caboose was taking a more physical approach—striking down anyone that got too close. Given his record with fire arms, Andrews was thankful the blue had chosen to use his gun as a club instead of its intended purpose.

If the enemy simulation troopers had succeeded in landing any blows, it was not apparent from where Dylan Andrews stood. The four Blood Gulch soldiers moved with an energy that seemed without end. Relentless in their assault, it was over almost as quickly as it began. Bodies littered the hanger; slumped over railings, peppered with bullets, impaled, broken, dismembered, and blown into unrecognizable, charred viscera. The Reds and Blues swiftly regrouped, backs to each other as they formed a square and scanned the room for any remaining threats.

A lone blue soldier shifted in his sprawled position on the hanger floor. Four visors snapped toward the movement. The bloodied trooper pitifully dragged himself across the death stained ground, inching painfully slow toward an unreachable exit. Simmons silently left formation and calmly approached the doomed soldier. Hearing the nearing footsteps, the Blue weakly rolled onto his back and raised a shaky arm in a futile act of defense. The maroon trooper drew his pistol.

“Wait! _Please—!_ ” 

A shot rang out, and the plea was cut short. Simmons turned and walked back to his team without a word. His gate was almost casual. Like he hadn’t just put a bullet through a man’s skull. When he rejoined the group, they performed a final scan of the hanger.

“Area secure. All hostiles eliminated,” Tucker announced, voice flat, bordering on monotone, “Objective complete.”

The four Blood Gulch troopers lowered their weapons, posture more at ease, but not so much that they couldn’t leap back into action at a moment’s notice. They promptly returned to the reporter and her group and lined up side by side, at attention. Grif’s visor found Dylan’s.

“Awaiting next directive.”

Silence.

Andrews was reeling. Vic’s explanation had been simplified and brief, but she had gotten the gist of it. She had known more or less what was to transpire. The reporter still felt unprepared.

“I know I asked for another Deus ex Machina, but I gotta say, the sleeper soldier bit is a little over played.” Jax hummed, looking from his partner to the sim troopers. “Eh. Still kinda cool, I guess.”

Dylan shot a glare at the cameraman. Judging from the flinch, he must have felt its heat even through the visor.

A strangled sound came from Carolina, like she was struggling to speak. Finally, she found her voice.

“What just…” The Freelancer trailed off, “Now I _know_ I’m hallucinating, because there’s no goddamn way that just happened.”

Donut approached her, brushing himself off.

“No! I saw it too!” he looked over at his statuesque teammates, wonder hidden by his visor, “It was like one of the scenes out of my ‘Double-O-Donut’ screenplay I’ve been working on.”

The pink soldier’s helmet swiveled toward Andrews, hand on one hip.

“You’ve been looking through my stories, haven’t you?”

Dylan sputtered, confused by the accusation.

“What? No I—”

“Woah! You’ve written screenplays too?” Jax interjected, “We should totally beta read for each other sometime. I’ve got some wicked ideas that could use a fresh pair of eyes to help work out the kinks.”

The reporter tuned out her partner as he and Donut began conversing in earnest. She found her attention wandering to Agent Washington, curious of his response in light of this shocking revelation.

Wash’s posture was tense, almost guarded.  He appeared surprising lucid, given his condition. Then, without warning, his shoulders slumped, head tilting to the side.

“Hey, when did those Freelancers get here?”

Ah, there it was.

_[“D-dude! That was totally awesome!”]_ Vic abruptly cackled. _[“Definitely worth the wait.”]_

Dylan disagreed. The whole ordeal made her feel sick. She went to say as much when a hand landed on her shoulder and roughly turned her around. It was Carolina.

“What. The _hell_. Did you _do_?” The woman snarled, “How did you know about any of this?”

Even severely weakened, the Freelancer was intimidating. The reporter took an unconscious step back at her hostility.

“I—”

[“Woah! Hey! As much as I’d like to watch a cat fight, my amigos, I’m gonna have to pause y-ya right there. I need ‘miss more at eleven’ in tip top shape so she can hold up her end of the dealio, you got me?”]

Andrews jolted at the slightly distorted voice, but mostly from surprise. Vic had taken it upon himself to access her mic and announce his presence. Carolina reeled herself in at the unexpected intervention; more from shock than actual compliance, if the reporter were to guess.

“Who—? _What_ was that?”

[“The name’s Vic, dudereno!”] The AI’s voice sizzled through the mic, [“I’m the AI that was in charge of s-surveilling and documenting all the crazy happenings ba-back in Blood Gulch.”]

“Jax and I discovered him during our search for you and the Reds and Blues,” Dylan added, ignoring her partner’s quiet quip about a ‘plot coupon’, “He agreed to help us in exchange for…a favor.”

The reporter winced at her unintentional hesitation. She really hoped the others wouldn’t press for details about the bargain. Using the simulation troopers had been vile enough. Further delving into ethical dilemmas was understatedly undesirable.

Carolina silently regarded Andrews for a pause. She slowly clenched and unclenched her fists, perhaps attempting to regain composure.

“That doesn’t answer my initial question,” the Freelancer growled lowly.

Dylan tacitly prodded Vic to take the lead. She only knew what little she had been told prior to the fight. In short—not enough to properly explain anything.

[“Hoo boy, where to start?”]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I figured this line was more directed at Caboose, but I left it in anyways. 
> 
> (Not shown here: Locus silently screaming in his head, probably thankful that none of this shit came to light during the war on Chorus)
> 
> Caboose and Donut were also sleeper agents in my first draft, but I ended up changing this for a couple reasons. For one, as shown in Season 14, the two rookies weren't originally supposed to be sent to the canyon. Second, things were getting a little darker than what I had initially planned. These goofs bring in some typical Red and Blue team shenanigans in the next chapter to hopefully help balance shiz out.
> 
> Also, fun with hypnotic suggestion! I did a little research for this two shot to see just how much truth there was to the whole "Sleeper Agent" trope and came out with some surprising results. There is something to it, maybe not to the degree seen here or in other media, but yeah, crazy stuff. Look up "The Control of Candy Jones" if you're interested in a real life example.


	2. Exposition: The Movie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang plays 20 questions, Caboose goes to Wonderland, and Carolina wants to break something.

[“You dudes know a-all about the Alpha, right? How he was stationed in Blood Gulch to keep him hidden?”]

Agent Carolina peered over at Washington. He appeared to be listening, but whether or not the man was actually grasping the conversation was anyone’s guess.

“Yes. The Alpha was placed there after Tex—” the aqua clad soldier gently shook her head, “—after a group of Freelancers tried to free him.”

[“Correctomundo! Now, di-did you know that our compadres here,” The reporter gestured to the Reds and Blues upon Vic’s silent prompting, “were hand-picked to meet certain specs?”]

That gave the Freelancer pause.

“Simulation Troopers were selected from those that didn’t fit the criteria to be real soldiers.”

She said it with some uncertainty, but above all, shame.

[“True, True, but what I’m talking about goes deeper down the rabbit hole.”]

“Does that make you Alice?” Wash slurred, staring hard at his fellow Freelancer.

“Yes!” Caboose bounced excitedly. “Washington can be Angry Hatter, Donut can be Treasure Cat, and I will be the Late Rabbit—because I do not like clocks.”

“Can I be the Red Queen instead?” Donut requested.

Jax made an inquisitive sound.

“Who do I get to be?”

“Tweedledum,” Dylan hissed irritably.

“Doesn’t that make you Tweedledee?”

“What about Locus?” Wash asked, a little too excitedly.

“Oh! He can be the Jabber Wonka. They are both very scary”

Locus growled, his patience worn dangerously thin.

“Can we _please_ get back on topic?”

[“I dunno dude, I kinda want to see where this goes.”]

“ _VIC!_ ” Carolina snarled.

[“Okay! Okay! Geez, don’t get y-your shorts in a twist.”]

The AI cleared his non-existent throat.

[“The Reds and Blues of Blood Gulch were selected based on their defining characteristics. Lazy, cowardly…stupid—”]

“Hey! I resent that!” Despite his words, Donut only sounded marginally offended.

[“—according to the data collected from another outpost, all these attributes guaranteed a near permanent st-stalemate, insuring the Alpha would stay put. You with me so far, dudes and dudettes?”]

“We never left.” Caboose answered seriously.

“He’s asking if we’re lost, Caboose.”

“Yeah…I don’t know where we are.”

“ _Confused_ , Caboose. Are you confused? ”

“My answer is still yes.”

The group wisely decided to drop the issue.

[“…Right. Coolio. Let’s go back to the Freelancer business for a hot minute. The whole re-reason Alpha was placed in nowheresville was to keep him hidden from super soldiers, yeah? But what would happen if they found out wh-where dudo supremo was located? What’s to keep the Freelancers from strolling in, taking our amigos out, and leaving Blood Gulch with one less AI?”]

The atmosphere of the hanger started to sober.

[“Enter Project—Uh…Project…”] The AI sputtered for a moment. [“Heh, this is embarrassing. Can’t seem to, uh, remember the name of the…thing.”]

Carolina looked ready to punch something. Given that Vic didn’t have a physical body, or even a holographic projection for that matter, Dylan was the next likely target. She impatiently urged the AI to continue the best he could.

[“Eh, doesn’t matter. The name’s not important anyway. The point is, The Director of Project Freelancer created a pr-program that took a group of sim troopers, put ‘em in a trance, beefed ‘em up, and made them go all super soldier whenever they heard the magic words.”]

“Conditioning and hypnotic suggestion…” Locus mused aloud.

Jax whirled to the former mercenary.

“Wait, hypnosis? As in the _brainwashing_ kind? That stuff actually works?!”

“Crudely put, but yes.” He eyed the troopers in question, still standing at attention. “Though I was unaware this particular method was implemented outside of espionage.”

Agent Carolina tightly clenched her fists until they audibly popped.

“Who was their handler, Vic?”

The AI fizzled briefly.

[“Their what now?”]

“Their handler,” she grit, “The person that maintained their…programming.”

Carolina nearly sounded ill.

[“Oh! That. The Reds and Blues have special implants that take care of that. Reduced the risk of a to-total project failure, ya dig?”]

_“Well,”_ Dylan thought, _“that would explain how the simulation trooper’s conditioning held up after all these years of disuse.”_

“If they didn’t have a handler, then who delivered the trigger phrase?”

[“It was some hippy dippy guy called Fff…uh…Flo—”] unintelligible garbling bubbled unpleasantly from the mic, [“He was an Agent…er…what’s the name of the state? The one that kinda looks like a gun?”]

Carolina inhaled sharply.

“Florida?”

[“Yeah! That’s it! If anyone ever came looking for the Alpha, he would be the one to let the dogs off the chain so to speak. But the dude died of an aspirin overdose waaay before anything exciting happened.”]

The Freelancer gazed back at the four statuesque sim troopers.

“If Florida had ever activated them…what would happen after they completed their objective?”

[“Flower boy would then say another set of magical words and the Reds and Blues would go ba-back to normal. Minus their memory of kicking butt, of course.”]

Carolina’s focus remained on the brightly colored soldiers. She felt like her head was spinning—and it wasn’t from the exhaustion.

“Wait a minute…” Donut mused, “Why weren’t Caboose and I affected by the trigger word? We were sent to Blood Gulch too.”

Everyone exchanged a look. The pink sim trooper made a good point.

All visors turned back to the reporter—or, more accurately, Vic—for explanation.

[“E-err…eh…the ol’ noggin’s a little fuzzy here and there but uh… I think you and Caboose shipping out to our canyon was a fluke.”]

“You mean…we weren’t supposed to be there?” Caboose suddenly sounded very small. “I wasn’t supposed to meet Church?”

Andrews didn’t have implants, and thus, didn’t technically have Vic in her head, but she swore she could feel the AI shuffling awkwardly.

[“Afraid not, blue amigo. My m-memory’s kinda patchy, but I think there was once a roster of trusted Freelancers that were to step in as replacements in the event of Florida’s death.  It must’ve gotten scrambled like yesterday’s breakfast.”]

“So unconditioned simulation soldiers were sent instead,” Dylan finished, understanding.

The room fell into a hush.

Just when the silence started to stretch too long, Locus began to speak.

“We need to move.”

All eyes whipped to the former mercenary.

“I know this is a lot to take in, but we can’t afford to wait around any longer.” He reclaimed his sniper rifle from its discarded spot on the ground. “We need to leave. Now.”

“We’re not going anywhere until the reporter fixes this.” Carolina snapped.

Locus sighed, shouldering his weapon.

“It may be unconventional, but you need to consider the advantage we’ve been given.” He gestured to the four troopers. “Their training could be invaluable when we face the Blues and Reds.”

Carolina fiercely shook her head.

“No. No _way_ are we using them like puppets.”

“Agent Carolina—”

“I said _no!_ ”

The two soldiers stared each other down.

“…don’t we get a say in this?”

Everyone turned to Donut, taken aback by his defeated tone. The pink trooper looked over at Caboose.

“What do you think we should do, Caboose?”

The blue soldier was quiet. For a moment, no one thought he would respond.

“I think…” he paused, “I think we should ask them.”

Caboose’s visor scanned over his entranced teammates.

“Sarge and Tucker do not like being told what to do. And Griff doesn’t like doing a lot of work. Simmons might be okay—he likes orders—but I still think we should get permission.” The sim trooper nodded to himself. “Church told me to always ask before I do something. When I didn’t, he would get mad.”

Caboose turned back to the group.

“I think they would too.”

Silence reigned once more. Glances and silent conversations were exchanged. Finally, the tension was broken by a sigh from Carolina.

“…Alright.” She tilted her head at the reporter. “Let them go Ms. Andrews. Please.”

[“H-Hwuh?”] Vic slurred, as if just waking up, [“What’d I miss?”]

Dylan gently returned the nod and spun to face the soldiers in question. She took a steadying breath.

“Soldiers, at ease.”

The four troopers swiftly complied.

“Is the Alpha secured?” They droned in unison.

The reporter felt the others wince.

A hiss of static announced that the AI was abruptly aware of the situation.

[“Woah! W-wait—!”]

“Asset secured. Your albatross has waned.”

Not a second after the phrase was finished, the simulation soldiers crumpled like marionettes cut from their strings. They gracelessly collapsed to the ground in a boneless heap.

The room descended into startled silence.

[“Heheh…yeah…I forgot to mention that was gonna happen,”] Vic chuckled nervously, [“Probably shoulda put a mattress under ‘em…or something.”]

Dylan Andrews narrowly avoided a pistol chucked at her head.

Killing Vic was starting to look less like a moral dilemma and more like a moral obligation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate to end it here, but this sucker was going to spiral out of control if I didn't. Sorry for it being kinda anti-climatic. :/
> 
> However! There is some reasoning behind my decision. I'm thinking I might do a whole "choose your own adventure" type of thing with this installment. One path explores if Tucker, Grif, Sarge, and Simmons, agree to go all super soldier on the Blues and Reds, and the other is if they refuse (which would probably end up being closer to the canon finale, but I would more than likely add a somewhat angsty epilogue of the dudes reflecting on this sleeper agent revelation). 
> 
> Anyhoo, I hope this was still enjoyable. Thanks for reading!


End file.
